Chapter II
Timber for a Flame
There is something to be said about a first meeting and the impression it leaves upon the other party. A host should always be prepared with warm invitation, and a pot of tea at the ready. Likewise there is a conscientiousness that should be present in all guests. What is expected—or ought to be provided—should not be shown in one's demeanor. There should always be an effort in humility even when there is an appalling lack of jam and bread. Of course, this is all dependent on the society being of a civilized nature. And even that is debatable.
To say that the method of my arrival was not well received, was putting it lightly. What soul's dander would not be raised by a sudden disruption, which nearly resulted in bodily harm and the sullying of their supper? I would be hard pressed to find one. It was a solid five minutes as the dust settled before the disturbed rose from their spot by the fire. Peering up at me and weighing two options: leaving me stuck as I was, or knocking me down into the flames as a lesson. The first was the more appealing choice, as the second required effort and was, in a way, aiding me from my plight. However, there was also a curiosity at my expulsion from the treetops, and this eventually won over the first two predispositions. It was keenly obvious how unaware I was. A dreadful and painful mess, draped in a tangle of branches with leaves and twigs sticking out every which way. It almost inspired pity.
Instead, there was a quick, hard, rap! Burled wood connected sharply with the branch in front of me. This was so startling that I baulked and slipped from my perch. Arms flailed about as I swung to and fro, my legs still snagged by the branch above. Suspended—in a topsy-turvy fashion—a way that belied grace. This was how I came to observe my surly audience.
"And what manner of folk are you?" they interrogated.
That was unexpected. If someone were to suddenly come tumbling down my stairs, that would not be a question I asked of them. Usually there would be an inquiry after their well-being, even when it was obvious that they were not all right. The lack of concern caught me off guard, and what did they mean by; folk?
"Are you deaf?"
The virtue of patience is as hard to come by, and equally as rare, as common sense.
"No…?" I responded.
"Well then, speak up! I have not the grace to sit here for the inordinate amount of time that it takes for you to conjure up an answer! Do I look to have all the hours of the night at my disposal?"
I stared and thought that I should say something. Just what though, escaped me. It didn't seem to be necessary, or welcomed for that matter, as the speaker continued straight on.
"No, I do not!" he barked.
"Ulmo preserve us!" he delivered to the sky.
He continued to rant. "Of all the places! The audacity of some, just dropping into business not their own! Never a thought to the trouble they've caused! And never a moment's peace! Sail me to the undying lands!"
I might have thought this a bit of an overreaction, had I been given the opportunity to think. As it were, I was spoken to with such rapid succession that I defaulted to simply letting events unfold. And really, it was impossible to have a serious conversation when I was strung upside-down with a carroty blaze all too near. It crackled and hissed, and was downright distracting. The fear that I would be set afire at any moment made me most anxious; resulting in my warily regarding the flames instead of the lecturer. My attention was properly redirected with a prod.
"Ow!" I exclaimed.
There was a snort in reply. "That is hardly worth complaint."
"How would you know?" I asked with sudden boldness and annoyance. I was, after all, the one who had just crashed down a tree.
"Then," your warden began, "you should maintain some presence of mind, and you would not fall prey to injury." (An argument could be made that this was exactly what I was doing, heeding the fire and all). As he had bent down to deliver his comment, I caught good sight of him for the first time. The light cast perfectly to reveal a very large crooked nose, beady green eyes, and a beard that was reminiscent of a nest. On his head sat a pointed hat that had long since lost its ability to remain upright, and so fell to the side all lackadaisical. His hair was wild, peppered, and knotted in a way I couldn't quite determine if purposefully done, or the result of neglect. It was not an appearance that I would have envisioned.
I began to feel as though I had befallen something momentous.
"And again, silence," his tone dripping with exasperation. "Had I not heard you speak, I would think you dumb."
His attitude was vexing.
"Are you so cruel to let me dangle here in danger from the fire?" I countered just as snidely.
He laughed. "You fear fire over a wizard."
At this statement all animosity fled. Incredulous, I asked, "A what?"
"Daft as well," he muttered before repeating, "A WIZARD."
I stared blankly. My mind was slow and unwilling to believe the words.
"You mean the sort that does magic?"
This gave him pause and he examined me in turn.
Finally he responded, "I am unaware of any other kind."
This rendered me speechless and confused. Wizards, magic, moving trees; these were all too fantastic, imagined tales to pass gloomy days. Or so I had believed, but a feeling in my gut begged to differ.
"Where am I?" The query held a note of apprehension.
The wizard scrutinized me a bit more, as if considering something, before he answered in a sort of reluctant and cautious tone. "In the wild, east of Ered Luin and in the northwest of Eriador."
These places—I did not know them—but, there was a sense of vague familiarity. It was inexplicable.
"Eriador…" I echoed, as if saying the name out loud would bring more clarity. It had the opposite effect. The notion worsened in a maddening way; trapped on the tip of my tongue, and now no amount of deliberation would free it. This stirred in me frustrated helplessness.
It was lucky for me that I was not alone and therefore allowed to wallow in a state of self-pity. Or maybe, it was being in the company of a wizard who was unwilling to suffer such sorrowful looks and the possibility of being lamented upon. Whichever, I suddenly found myself whipped toward the trunk. The branch that held me bent in a most unnatural way before it unceremoniously tossed me to the ground. After an initial squeal and grumbles, I pulled myself upright and pinned the wizard with a begrudging look.
"A warning would have been nice!" I'd had my fill with the nasty business of falling.
"Oh?" He raised a bushy eyebrow. "Did you offer me the same consideration when you came bursting from the heavens and ruined my supper?"
That was a valid point. But I was not about to admit it, or be held responsible for something that was beyond my control. I huffed in reply. I was as irritable as he looked taking the pot from the fire and tossing its contents beyond the pool of light. The feeling was fleeting and being challenged by more portending thoughts, not leaving behind any measure of confidence. I watched as he dug into a pack, a question coming to mind.
"Who are you?" My voice was quiet, and for a moment I thought that he had not heard. That was until he looked up sharply.
"Were you taught no manners?" Though he spoke at a lower volume, he had not lost any of his snappish quality.
"What—?"
"Spare me," he interrupted. "Ask my name before giving your own! Of all the uncouth…presumptuous…" he continued with less than discreet grousing. It didn't take away any of the annoyance, whether I could pick out his words or not, he was still complaining about me. It was remarkable that no matter what I said, or did, I was somehow always in error. A feat for what could've only been about an hour's acquaintance. I rolled my eyes.
"Pardon me. I'm—"
"No!" he interrupted again. "No, no, no. Don't tell me your name. The less I know, the less likely I am to be caught up by your trouble."
"What do you mean? I'm not in trouble," I insisted.
He laughed at that. "Doesn't even know…" He shook his head. "That's much worse."
I opened my mouth to make a similar protest when he beat me to it…again.
"Never mind, no amount of telling is going to do any good. You will just insist otherwise."
That was entirely unjust! Wizard or not, he did not know everything despite him clearly thinking that he did. And he certainly did not know me. His elusiveness was infuriating.
"Are all wizards like you?" I drawled.
"I should hope not," he snorted and stood, pot back in hand.
"Wait!" I started with a note of panic as he turned away and headed toward the dark trees. "Are you going?"
"I am humbled by your wit," he muttered not deterred in the slightest.
"You can't leave!" I practically shouted, standing up in the process.
This did make him stop, and he turned back to me, his towering form oppressive.
"Can I not?" he intoned.
Those three words reverberated within me, shaking me to my core, the very hairs upon my arms standing on end. He was waiting for my answer, and while most of me wished to cower, there was a very small part that did not.
"No," I answered far from firm.
I dared not breath as he glowered down at me, sure that I was about to be turned into a toad.
Finally he spoke, "Not so hopeless after all."
Whatever was that supposed to mean? I was about to say as much, and more, but he held up his hand.
"Enough! Trolls have more sense than you!" He sighed. "I am merely going for more water."
Here he held up the pot and I felt foolish.
"Stay within the firelight and you will come to no harm," he emphatically stated.
"Harm?" His reference to trolls was now quite alarming. "What do you mean harm?"
"Confound it all! Do you really wish to know?"
When he put it that way, I was sure that I did not want to know.
"No, leave me out of your trouble." For the briefest of instances the corner of his mouth quirked.
"Stay by the fire," he reiterated, and then he was gone.
I stood a moment longer glancing about before I scooted closer to the fire and sat down. Every noise was greater than before. The whooshing of the underbrush, crinkling and crackling, breaking and bawling; all becoming deeper, darker. The snapping hiss of flames dwindled, their brilliance ebbing, their glow caught as if in a fog. Beyond the light—out there—my mind conjured dark visages. The warmth faded away, leaving an unsettling chill.
That is when I heard it.
It was just above the rest, gliding over the undertones, a rhythmic drone. The urge to turn around clawed at me. The sound increased in pace as I stubbornly stared into the blaze, which seemed to be growing fainter. The rise and fall of my breast increased as it filled with dread. Stay by the fire, but what if it will not stay by me? Where had the wizard gone? It was here that I thought of her, the words she would whisper in the terror of the night, when naught else could push the darkness back. The very remembrance a token of grief, I spoke them aloud. To the air I lifted the verses:
O' how the stifling shadow falls,
It crows our ruin, it mocks our call.
Beset and banished; O' land to vanish,
Cast into the sea.
Nevermore a path to tread,
Nevermore to look ahead;
To gaze upon the green,
Great splendor to be seen;
Nevermore to hail the three-tree.
But even in dire hour,
There is hope; another Power.
O' light to part,
With emboldened hearts;
The day is marked,
Strike fear into the dark;
For it shall never be.
It was not the end of the lay, but I left it there. The tremor within had lessened, and the fire seemed to regain its vibrancy. I looked out into the gloom and saw nothing of the imaginings from before. Only a twinge of fear remained. What was it about those words? Gran never told me and when asked, she always responded with a question of her own.
Do you feel better? Then what is there to know…
Perhaps that was the truth and I was the only maker of evil, tricked by mind and a fickle heart. Perhaps it was all a dream. And perhaps I was merely deluding myself with such thoughts. That's what the balmy wizard would tell me.
"And what do you think to spy in the black of night?" I was abruptly asked.
Startled, I cried out and fell back. The movement a reminder of bruised layers and (for my part) it was not kindly received.
"How did you get there?" I demanded staring across the flames at my companion suddenly reappeared.
"I walked."
"With no sound?" I did not believe him.
"Need I remind you I am a wizard, or have you already forgotten?" He placed his pot back above the fire and began to drop various plants into the water. "Although passing unnoticed is hardly worth such a grandiose display. Being nimble of feet is enough and you may not have been so surprised had you been paying attention."
I had never been scolded so much in my life. "And what is wrong, may I ask, with gazing out into the night?"
"That depends…" he paused in his stirring, "on what you were hoping to find."
"I was hoping to find nothing," I defended and he snorted.
"Good, and that is where it should be left."
He was unperturbed and had strayed into what seemed to be good humor. I, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.
"Do you ever make any sense?"
"Do you ever listen?" he taunted.
What an insufferable man! If I had my way, I would not waste one more instant in conversation, but he was not one to be ignored.
"Drink this," he commanded shoving a cup toward me.
I took it, so as to not have the contents emptied into my lap, and eyed it with a measure of doubt.
"What is it?" The odor wafting up at me was far from appealing. "It smells awful," I added.
I watched as he painstakingly settled himself and then proceeded to stuff a pipe. Of which he had pulled from his sleeve. It was a slow and methodical process. I huffed in irritation.
At long last, he mumbled to me between puffs of smoke, "It's an herbal remedy not a glass of wine. Drink it if you desire some relief. Or do not; it makes no difference to me."
I watched him a bit longer, wondering at the kindness, before gagging it down. It was not so foul, but rather the combination of tastes did not mix well. I sat there some minutes and eventually the ache in my head began to dissipate. The silence and warmth played on my exhaustion and I lay down. The bright dance of colors hypnotizing, I welcomed the numbing distraction, putting off the things that harrowed me. I thought that sleep was finding me too easily, and I reckoned that it was the brew I consumed. But it had been a long while since I'd rested peacefully and I yearned to do so, if only to forget for a little while.
The wizard watched as I finally gave in to sleep; my eyelids sliding shut and my shoulders relaxing from their tense posture. I was a mystery; dropping from the clouds, ignorant and yet possessing of knowledge unbeknownst to myself. It was trouble, with which he should not bother.
"And what about you?" he asked pinning the tree I'd barreled through with a cursory glance. "She breaks your boughs and now look at you, sprawling your leaves all out above her. If that was the way to garner favor, I would have broken your branches long ago."
The tree groaned in return, the pitch varying every so often like you would expect to hear if a strong wind blew it about. The wizard coughed, choking on the smoke of his pipe.
"So you say, but I'm not so sure." He rose from the ground, studying his surroundings before coming to stand over me, a frown marring his features.
"Regardless," he continued, "she will sleep soundly this night." And he draped a cloak over my sleeping form.